Thanks
by Commander Vimes
Summary: HouseCuddy fic. I've been wondering about House's parents. What would House do if his parents decided to stop by for Thanksgiving? R&R please.
1. A Chapter in which things happen

My first fanfic, so go easy on me. There's going to be more. Give me reviews anyway. Anyone who reviews gets an authentic cane.

"Nooooooo!" House cried as Mario tumbled down into the dark abyss, and "Game Over" flashed on the screen of House's favorite red gameboy.

"Murderer!" House looked up at the annoyed face of Cuddy. "You'll be the one paying for the funeral."

"It'll be more then just Mario's funeral if you don't get to the clinic right now." Another one of Cuddy and House's famous banters. Cuddy lived for them. But she would sooner die then let House know that.

"Can't. I have to go to morgue." There is one thing you can count on House for, and that is avoiding clinic duty at all costs.

Cuddy sighed. As much as she loved these arguments, she had work that needed to get done. "Why do you need to go to the morgue?" Cuddy already knew why House wanted to go to the morgue. The morgue is the furthest place in the hospital from the clinic.

"I just read a book on resurrection, and I wanted to give it a try. It works best on the freshly dead."

"Clinic. Now!" To Cuddy's surprise, House gave in. Depositing his gameboy in his pocket, House climbed out of his closet. The broom that had been next to him minutes before, not wanting to be deprived of its companion, fell out of the closet, and onto House's head. Cuddy laughed.

"Owwwww! Mommy, I have a booboo." Honestly, sometimes House could be such a baby.

"Go put a band-aid on it at the clinic." House took a couple vicodin. Mumbling under his breath, House hobbled down the hallway and, after checking to see if Cuddy was watching, rounded the corner and ducked into the next closet.

Cuddy pulled House out of seven closets before finally getting House to the clinic. She was starting to think that House was doing this just to annoy her.

"Here is your folder. There is your patient. That is your Exam Room. Go!" Cuddy practically shoved House into Exam Room 2. She stood guard by the door, sending in more and more patients, and making sure House didn't escape. So much for getting that work done, Cuddy thought. She couldn't figure out why she kept babysitting House, why she even put up with him. It was probably because – Cuddy's train of thought was interrupted by House barging out of the Exam Room.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. I know you sleep in the hospital, but I actually have a life."

"Barely." Cuddy looked down at her watch. It was exactly five o'clock. "Fine. Go home."

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House had been home for a whole ten minutes before deciding he was hungry. On the way to the kitchen, House saw that there was a message on his machine. Probably Wilson, House thought. Something told him to listen to it anyway. Taking an extra vicodin, just because he was behind, he pressed play.

"Hi Greg."

Hi Greg? That's not Wilson. It sounded like a woman's voice anyway.

"It's Mom. Michelle is still in Australia, so your father and I are coming to you for Thanksgiving."

Oh no. Mom. Dad. Thanksgiving.

House's usually overly competent brain was having trouble processing this bit of information.

"Curse Michelle and her kangaroos." House said to his counter. " Stupid good-for-nothing sister. One day she and Chase will have a nice, long talk. That'll cure her of her obsession with Australia."

Now what to do about Thanksgiving and his parents. He could just not pick them up from the airport. No, House couldn't be that mean, even to his parents.

"Well, I can't face them alone." House continued his conversation with the counter. He found his furniture perfect to talk to, because they didn't say stupid things back. Then again, neither did Cuddy.

"I need someone there to save me."

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"Come on!" House was practically begging Wilson to come for Thanksgiving.

"Julie will kill me if I go out for Thanksgiving. Her family is coming over, and they already think badly of me. Not to mention Julie. I don't know how much longer my marriage is going to last." Wilson wondered why his parents were never invited over for the holidays.

"That's the worst part of getting married. The wife. That's why I cleverly don't have one." House thought Wilson was a little bit stupid for wanting marriage so much. It clearly didn't want him.

"I can't face them myself!"

"Who?" Now Wilson was interested.

"My parents."

"You have parents?" Now Wilson was astonished.

"No. I was the result of a mad scientist's experiment gone right."

Wilson didn't push it. Obviously there were some issues with House and his parents. Nope. Wilson's curiosity got the better of him. He couldn't hold it in.

"How come they've never come over before?"

"They usually go to my sister for Thanksgiving, and all the other holidays. Or they stay home. But my Mom can't make a turkey, and my sister is in Australia."

House was enjoying this conversation less and less. His lunch of stale noodles wasn't doing much for his appetite, and the cafeteria was giving him a headache.

"Are you going to come or not?"

"I wish I could." Wilson wasn't jealous of House having his parents over, but he would rather spend Thanksgiving anywhere but with Julie. She wasn't giving him much choice in the matter, though.

"Great friend you are." House mumbled.

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House listened to the message again.

"Hi Greg. It's Mom. Michelle is still in Australia, so your father and I are coming to you for Thanksgiving. Pick us up at Newark Airport on Wednesday, November 23rd. Our flight lands at four o'clock."

That was it. She didn't sound too happy about coming. She probably wouldn't have come if Dad hadn't made her. He hates having Thanksgiving in the house, just the two of them. He needs to have Thanksgiving with family. Mom wasn't exactly House's biggest fan.

"Well," House said to the refrigerator, "That was then. This is now. I doubt Mom has changed, I haven't changed, and Dad is probably the same as ever. Wilson won't be there to save me. I definitely can't face them alone. This is not good."

House picked up his yellow glow-in-the-dark yoyo, and sat down, deep in thought.

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"We have a new case." House dropped a blue folder onto the table in the conference room. Immediately, Chase pounced. House was only half-paying attention while Chase read out the symptoms. He sloppily wrote them on the board, not taking his eyes off his ducklings. Today he didn't care about the case. He already was pretty sure about what Mr. Boyce had. No, today he was observing his candidates, and not paying the slightest attention to the possible diagnoses for Mr. Boyce, as Foreman pointed out.

"You spelled vasculitis wrong."

"Oops." No, Foreman wouldn't do. Foreman is a nice enough guy, but I wouldn't want him anywhere near my personal life, House thought.

Cameron felt House's eyes on her. She did everything she could to stop herself from blushing. She wondered what was going on in that amazing head of House's, and why he was acting so strange. She wondered what he was doing for Thanksgiving. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to ask him. There was a lot she wanted to ask him, but couldn't. She knew she wasn't doing anything for Thanksgiving.

What was going on in House's head also had to do with Thanksgiving, but his thoughts were on a train heading in the opposite direction. My parents would like Cameron, House thought. But asking her over might make her think I want her. No, it would be completely wrong. Cameron's out of the picture.

House then moved on to Chase. The Aussie. House imagined him with a kangaroo tail. He laughed. The ducklings looked at him, confused.

"Are you feeling alright?" Chase asked, annoyed. He had just suggested a perfectly good diagnosis and House had laughed.

"What?" House was having trouble getting the picture of kangaroo Chase out of his head. "Go do some tests, get me some blood. Go meshugana." At that the ducklings exited, leaving House to contemplate. No, Chase wouldn't do.

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Cuddy was House hunting once again. After checking all the closets, the men's room, and the clinic, she went for his office. Cuddy could see House sitting there, playing with his yoyo. Sometimes Cuddy couldn't believe how childish he was. Here is a brilliant man, wasting his brains watching the OC. House didn't seem to notice Cuddy walking right up to his door. She was about to open it, when something stayed her hand. Cuddy thought she had heard a phone ring. Then Cuddy did a very unCuddy-like thing. She pressed her ear against the door and peered into the glass wall next door. Cuddy wasn't thinking about what people would say if they saw her. She was thinking about what House said next.

"Hi Mom."

What? House has parents? Cuddy almost fell over. Of course he has parents. Cuddy bent her mind back to listening to House.

"Yes, I got your message. No, I won't forget to pick you up. No, I won't burn the turkey." House sounded eager to end the conversation. He looked thoroughly miserable. "Bye Mom." House closed his call phone and picked up his yoyo again, lost in thought.

Cuddy figured it was a good time to remove her face from House's door, and did so. She was ashamed of herself. Why did she care so much about House? What if somebody had seen her? She didn't even know why she bothered to seek House out and make him to clinic duty. She could just make another doctor do it. Well, Cuddy thought, here comes another banter. She entered House's office.

"Clinic duty."

"Okay."

Cuddy stared at him. Did House just say okay? No fight, no banter, just "okay?" House must be really depressed, Cuddy thought.

IPod in hand, House pushed past Cuddy and out the door, but not without taking a poke at Cuddy's funbags first.

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House knew that Cuddy would be shocked at House giving in to clinic duty. He also knew that Cuddy had most probably heard him on the phone. He also knew that Cuddy would never look for him in his current hiding place, the women's bathroom. Well, if Cuddy could go into the men's room, he had every right to go into the women's room. Fair is fair.

"Uggghhh. Pink." House said to the sink. The sink wasn't as good to talk to as the furniture in House's house. It even looked stupid. House leaned against a stall, deep in thought.

Cuddy had probably learnt everything from those four sentences. She knew all about his parents coming for Thanksgiving, at least his Mom. So what? She didn't know the history. She didn't know how House's parents had wanted a girl, and never wanted Gregg. They hadn't been ready for him, so they ignored him. She didn't know how House had just been shoved aside when Michelle was born. He was pushed away like a failed experiment. She didn't know how it felt seeing all the other kid's parents cheering them on at soccer, and knowing your own parents weren't there, that they didn't care. They didn't even want House to go to college. He wanted to be a doctor, and they refused to pay for his college tuition. House had worked his butt off to get that scholarship, and his parents had just kicked him out of the house, happy to be rid of him. He had bought an apartment with the money he had been saving up since he had learnt how to count, and had forgotten about his parents. They had always forgotten him. But Cuddy didn't know any of this.

Cuddy. House had been so busy trying to figure a way out of being stuck with his parents he had totally forgotten about Cuddy. She had already heard that House's parents were coming for Thanksgiving. She might make annoying inquiries afterwards, but House was sure he could deal with it. Besides, House didn't know what else to do.


	2. A Chapter in which not much happens

House left the women's bathroom and made his way down to the clinic by ten to five. His time in the bathroom had mostly been spent defeating video game zombies. At one point, a nurse had come in to use the lavatory, but she was scared away pretty quickly. Anyway, there was another bathroom on the first floor.

It was five to five, and House was signing out of the clinic. He was making his escape. He would ask Cuddy tomorrow. The Lady Behind The Desk was about to point out to House that he had never signed into the clinic when Cuddy stormed in.

"Uh oh," House said, turning his back on The Lady Behind The Desk. "My water's boiling."

Walking over to Cuddy, he said, "Cool down before you go up in steam. Although the world would probably be a better place if you did evaporate. Less clinic duty."

Cuddy was not appreciating fantasy of a clinic free world. "Where have you been?" Cuddy had spent all afternoon combing the hospital for House. She was sure she had lost a few years off her life in those hours.

"Why, Cuddy, I've been right here in the clinic. In fact, I was just signing out." House looked at his watch. One to five.

"Sure, House. I bet you never even signed in."

House twisted his face into a shocked and hurt expression, but The Lady Behind The Desk's smirk told a different story.

"House, what am I going to do with you?"

House's face lit up. "Well, now that you ask…."

Cuddy didn't think she wanted to hear the rest of that sentence. " I don't need your suggestions."

House lowered his voice. It was now or never. "You could come to my house for Thanksgiving."

Cuddy hid her shock behind a blank face. A million thoughts were racing through her head. She had never expected this. "A….a…..date?" She asked weakly. "House, you remember the last time……" Cuddy didn't get to finish that sentence.

"Not a date." House was slipping away from his comfort zone. He needed to do something, fast.

"I'm busy Thanksgiving." Cuddy wondered why she didn't just say no outright. She was remembering House's phone call. She didn't want to be in the same room as House and his Mom, let alone the same building. Besides, the last time she had gone on a date with House, it hadn't exactly had the best results. Cuddy tried not to think about it.

House knew Cuddy was lying. "I'll do three extra weeks of clinic duty." What! Three weeks! What was I thinking? How is that my comfort zone? I bargain for less clinic hours, not more! House was viciously interrogating his mind. Exactly how desperate was he?

Cuddy was thinking similar thoughts. The tables have turned! Somehow, the thought didn't give her much joy. She felt bad for House. At least, she thought she felt bad for House. Was it guilt? Was it pity? Something compelled her to change her mind.

"I give up. You win. I'll come." Thoughts were rushing through Cuddy's head, and she couldn't make sense of any of them. She looked at her watch. Five after five. "Go home. You already have three weeks of clinic duty ahead of you. A few more hours will seem like nothing."

House looked like he wanted to strangle and hug Cuddy at the same time. It made him look horribly hung-over. House just walked to his red corvette and drove home, his head as full as Cuddy's.

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House extracted the leftover Chinese food from the refrigerator, and sat down at his kitchen table. Most of it was still good, although the noodles were a little bit stale. He didn't notice. He wasn't paying attention to anything in particular. His head was swimming with thoughts, none of them comprehensible.

Depositing the empty container in the garbage, House dragged himself over to his tape collection. He randomly picked one, and inserted it into the boom box Wilson had gotten him. You need to keep up with the times Wilson had said. House had pointed out that Wilson still used his computer from 1987, at which point Wilson had hung his head in shame and begged House to forgive him. Or something along those lines. House couldn't remember the details.

House threw himself on the couch, careful not to lie down on his bad leg. He took a vicodin and tried to catch some of the lyrics to the song that was playing. He recognized the song as Poisoning Pigeons in the Parkby Tom Lehrey. Suddenly House realized how tired he was. He hadn't gotten much sleep lately. Taking one more vicodin, he let himself drift into sleep.

_House was sitting on a bench in a park. In his hand he held a bag full of peanuts_. _One look at them told him they were poison. Briefly he wondered why he was carrying a bag of poisoned peanuts, when a pigeon walked by._

_House looked into the pigeons eyes, and saw hunger and hurt. The thought came to him that this was House as he used to be. He reached inside his bag, drawing out a peanut. He knew he had to feed it to the bird. He didn't want to, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Nothing would deter him. He threw a peanut onto the ground in front of the pigeons face. The pigeon nibbled at the peanut, and was dead in seconds. _

_Just then, a second pigeon came by. This pigeon had a rumpled wing. At first glance, House saw it was broken. Again, a thought came to him, this time telling him that this bird was House now. House felt wanted to help this pigeon. It was damaged. It needed him. How could House not help this bird? He saw the pigeon was hungry. Instinctively, he fed the bird a peanut, not realizing until too late what he had done. _

_A third pigeon walked past House's bench. This pigeon was hurt, but it walked on anyway, proud. No thoughts came to House. At first he felt frustrated, and then he just felt happy. He liked the world, and it liked him back. He looked at the first two birds. The happiness evaporated. In its place came guilt. House looked at the dead birds and felt the guilt. He looked at the bag of peanuts in his hands and felt the guilt. He threw the bag behind him. A flock of pigeons came down, and one by one, they fell dead. House looked at them and felt the guilt. He felt their pain. _

Pain.

Guilt and Pain.

His guilt and pain. Other's guilt and pain. He used that guilt. He threw it back at its owner. Sometimes it made him feel a bit guilty.

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It was doomed to be a bad day before the day started. Of course, this didn't become obvious until House came into work, late, of course.

House was opening the doors to the hospital. That would have been easy enough, if he hadn't been fumbling for the last vicodin at the bottom of the bottle. He reached into the bottle, fishing for vicodin, and completely lost control of the door, which swung into House's face. As if that wasn't bad enough, House spilled all his vicodin and lost his cane.

Desperately seeking a new owner after being separated from its previous one, House's cane came at Foreman's forehead hard. So at least that was amusing.

Foreman's forehead. Haha.

Foreman handed House back his cane, and gave House a curious look. Immediately, House's face went blank. The next moment, Cuddy's face was in it.

"Clinic duty. Now."

"You should be nicer to me. I know which poisons can be disguised in foods."

"So use that information to cure your clinic patients."

"I think JLo currently holds the award for lowest neckline, but you come in a close second."

"Tell that to the clinic patients."

"Alright, alright. Just don't come complaining to me when your turkey smells funny. But first, I promised Vicky I'd meet her. You wouldn't want me to go back on a promise?"

House brandished his empty bottle of vicodin and limped down the hallway. Saying limped is unnecessary, since we know he didn't run down the hallway, but I need to put something there. I, being a figure of your imagination. Anyhoo, Wilson was not in for a fun day.

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Wilson was not impressed. "You dropped your precious vicodin?"

"Yes, my precious, _greg greg, _must have my precious. Kill the nasty Wilsoney, _greg greg, _my precious." House could do an impressive Gollum impression. By now, Wilson was past being impressed by House's charades.

"I just gave you two days ago."

"I'm not that old. I can still remember things. Now go get me a refill."

"Tomorrow."

"Will be another day. Can I have a refill? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?"

"Fine." Wilson was tired of House's whining. He found it easier just to give in sometimes. House could be so childish sometimes. Wilson wasn't quite sure how he came to be friends with House. He remembered that night, of course. It was a night at the bar…...but that's another story. Wilson dragged himself over to the pharmacy, sighing as he went.

House was more desperate for vicodin then usual. He had had a very strange dream the night before, and it was haunting his thoughts. He had also just realized that it was Monday. Mom and Dad were coming on Wednesday. If House survived that long.


End file.
